Inbred Mutant Hoody Zombie Teen Stalk 'N' Slash Massacre - Part 17

Angie is feeling deflated because she never got the chance to sing her karaoke version of Gloria Gaynor's feminist anthem, 'I Will Survive.'

Her nipples haven't given up the ghost just yet though. They're as upstanding as a pair of Chrysler wheel nuts.

Boyfriend Todd isn't much consolation either. Not since Angie learned that her mother gave him a blow job.

She's really pissed off.

"Babe," Todd tells her. "You need to snap out of this. We're in mortal peril here. We're surrounded by homicidal hoody zombies, guided by some twisted, hell bent on world domination, undead terrorist. We have to get our priorities right and get out of here."

"How did it happen?" Angie mutters.

"We were in the car and we went to Camp Gruesome Death and it just sort of escalated from there," Todd explains.

"Babe. I regret it ever happened," Todd lies. "But your momma is a beautiful lady. And when she clamped her jaws round my Johnson and stared up at me with those beautiful big brown eyes I was powerless to resist. I swear it will never happen again.* Now can we concentrate on getting out of this situation in one piece?"

*(A blatant lie. Todd texted Angie's momma 20 minutes ago and he's going over there to her place as soon as the current situation is resolved.)

"You know what they say," Todd says. "If it isn't as dirty as hell you're not doing it right."

"Enough of this oral sex related malarkey!" Abel Zorro interjects. "Any more of this explicitly sexual content and you'll have us banned from the website! Let us concentrate on the matter in hand!"

"I wish mine was in somebody's hand right now," says Buck wistfully.

"Yes. All right!" Abel Zorro fumes. "I think we all agree that a bit of rumpy-pumpy is good for the soul, but we have more pressing matters to contend with at this point in time."

Fran gets close to Abel Zorro. She's obviously in a state of real 'turned on-ness'

She presses her shapely breasts against his arm and slides her tongue into his ear hole.

"I can play the pink flute pretty good Mister Zorro," she purrs. "I'm listed on Wikipedia as an expert flautista..."

"Now just hang on here," Nick interjects. "The writer of this crock of shit may have lost the plot, but I haven't. We're in danger here, and this is somehow turning into a hard core porno spectacular. In case it bypassed your collective hormonal imbalances, we need to get the hell out of here."

"Hey, Mister Abel Zorro," Buck says. "If you don't wanna take her up on the blow job offer, I'll step in for you. And Angie, if your momma's not busy next Wednesday afternoon I'd be more than willing to pop in for tea and biscuits. In a distinctly Ron Jeremy way."

"For Gods Sake!" Nick blurts. "Let's just concentrate on getting out of here right now!"

"Where are we anyway?" Angie pouts.

"We are where the writer left us," Abel Zorro says. "We are underground in a sterile factory environment being hunted down by Teenage Mutant Hoody Zombies."

"He's right," Lola says. Lola is flat chested but she has really luscious lips. "We can indulge in every sexual deviation known to mankind once we get out of here. There's evil afoot, and we're either going to have to deal with it, or get away from it. Let's just do what we have to do."

"Do you play the flute too?" Buck asks, sort of innocently.

"That's for later," Lola says. "I could turn you inside out with these lips, but we have things to do."

Buck adjusts his trousers under cover of his leather apron.

The gang are in a corridor, strip light illuminated. Sterile.

"How do we get out?" Nick asks.

"Like I know?" Abel Zorro says. "Like I've been here before or something?"

"Cool it bro," Nick says. "Nobody's questioning your leadership qualities here. We all know that you lead from the front. It's just that we're gonna wind up facing some unspeakable evil here. We're counting on you buddy."